Trying to Forget
by elenorecanard
Summary: A scene of Ron and Hermione after a particularly nasty battle. I missed the disclaimer in the body. Sorry. Point being, I don't own the characters in this story


Title: Trying to Forget

Word Count: 1,728

Rating: T

"I think," she said, "that I need another drink." She reached for the bottle sitting between them.

He wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle before she could touch it. "No, you don't. You've had plenty to drink," he said, moving the bottle down the counter out of her reach. "So have I. I'm cutting us both off."

She gapped at him. "How come you get to do the cutting off?" she asked, slurring ever so slightly.

"Were you going to?" he asked.

"No! Of course I wasn't, Ronald. I said I wanted another one, remember?" Hermione huffed.

"Exactly," Ron answered her. "You don't want to be sick tomorrow, 'Mione. And that's where you're headed. Trust me."

"That's what hangover potions are for, Ron. Right now, I don't care about tomorrow. I'm still trying to forget yesterday."

It was so unHermionelike, and it worried Ron more than a little. Their excursion last night had been one of the worse ones, and they'd all almost died. Once the cup was destroyed, Harry, in true Potter fashion, had come back to the inn and tried to convince them to go home. Of course they'd refused, and Harry had fallen into bed, exhausted and was still sleeping. Neither of them had the heart to wake him, when they came downstairs to the pub hours ago, but now, Ron was wishing he had.

"Mione, this is not the way to go about doing that," Ron said gently. "You know that. This isn't like you."

"Oh really, Ronald?" Hermione spat. "What is like me? Tell me. What would Hermione do to deal with a very near death experience?"

Ron scrubbed his hands over his face. He'd stopped drinking quite a bit earlier and was sober enough to know better than to say something cheeky and start an argument. He was suddenly reminded of Hermione, sitting in the common room at Hogwarts, harping on him and Harry to stop goofing around and study for their OWLS.

He sighed. "There was a time, not so long ago, when you would have slept hard, and woken up the next morning, gotten out your books and found a way to keep it from happening second time. That's what's saved our lives so often."

Hermione suddenly became very interested in the wood grain of the counter top. Ron hooked a finger under her chin and pulled her gaze up to meet his.

"Let's go make a plan, yeah? Let's not rot our brains out tonight."

Hermione only nodded.

He studied her for a long moment, trying to decide if she was too drunk to climb the stairs, of if he'd have to carry her. He couldn't levitate her at a Muggle in. He was caught up in this thought and although his eyes saw her move, his brain didn't catch up until he felt her mouth against his. Even then, his first thought was "Well, she can stand."

Her arms slid around his neck and his brain clicked back to the present. He slid his hand against the back of her neck, and returned the kiss, and she stepped closer to him, standing between his knees.

For a moment, he was lost. The only thing his brain registered was her tongue, sliding against his lower lip. Then he realized they were standing in a Muggle pub, with the bartender standing at the other end of the long counter. His free hand found her hip, and he gently pulled her away, effectively breaking their kiss, albeit reluctantly.

He opened his mouth to speak, found no voice, cleared his throat and started again. "Hermione, you need to sleep."   
For just a moment, she looked like she was going to argue with him. He noted the emotion in her eyes, but couldn't place it. She nodded and a blush crept across her face. She took a step back from him, and stumbled on her own feet. Ron reached out to steady her, grabbing her arm. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money, fumbling a bit with the paper, and left a couple of bills on the counter, nodding to the bartender. He kept his hold on her, helping her get up the stairs with out falling, and deposited her on the bed that Harry didn't occupy. Hermione didn't say anything.

"Sleep well, 'Mione," he whispered, before pulling off his shirt and slipping onto the cot set up across the room.

Hermione was dressed and had her nose in a book when Ron woke the next morning.

"Good morning," he said quietly, pulling his shirt back over his head.

"Morning," She answered, without looking up.

They both turned when they heard Harry roll over. "What time is it?" he asked, blinking at the ceiling.

Ron laughed. "More like what day, mate. You slept through yesterday. I'm going to take a shower," he announced, leaving the room.

When Ron returned showered and dressed, Harry had joined Hermione at the table, and was looking at her quizzically. He stood and walked over to Ron.

"She hasn't said anything all morning. It's weird. Like she's studying for NEWTs or something, she just keeps turning pages, and scribbling notes." Harry looked worried.

Ron nodded. "I'll talk to her. She's okay. She had sort of a rough night last night. She's probably not feeling very well, either."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Don't buy her a fruity girly drink, Harry. Our 'Mione'll shoot more whiskey than you or I can, and still stand up."

Harry smiled. "Yeah?"

Ron's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but he nodded again and crossed the room. He pulled a chair up next to her and stared at the book she was reading.

"Healing spells?" he asked.

"It's not going to happen a second time, Ron" she said.

"Let's go get some breakfast. You can tell me what you're reading about."

"I'm working, Ron," Hermione protested.

"I know you are," he said gently. "But who can work on an empty stomach?" He smiled her, broadly.

"Is that all you think about? Food?" She snorted.

"Not all. Just most," he answered, pulling the book out of her hands. "Come on, 'Mione."

Hermione sighed and set down her quill. Ron glanced up at Harry, who looked amazed. Really, the fact that he was still in one piece after taking a book from Hermione, surprised Ron too.

"Are you coming, Harry?" Hermione asked, allowing Ron to pull her up.

"I'll…be down in a bit. I'm going to take a shower," Harry answered, nodding at Ron.

Ron led Hermione down the stairs into the pub below the inn. They ordered their food and waited patiently.

"What are you working on up there?" Ron asked her.

"I'm trying to learn to take care of us, if the next horcrux is as dangerous as the last. Or worse," she answered. She looked very tired.

"Are you feeling alright?" he prodded.

Hermione flushed. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks," she said, staring at her hands.

"Look, Ron, about last night…"

"'Mione, don't worry about it. You're entitled to an outlet once in a while. How many times did you bring Harry and me out of that pub in Bulgaria before we couldn't walk anymore?" Ron said, gently.

"I didn't mean to be so forward. I'm really sorry." She flushed deep red.

"Hermione, really. It's okay. You were drunk. We all do things we don't mean when we're drunk," he tried to dismiss the subject, not wanting to embarrass her anymore.

"I….Ron…" Hermione took a deep breath, and looked up at him. "Ron, I did mean it. I just didn't mean for that to happen in quite so…public a fashion."

Ron stared at her. "What?"

"I meant it. I do mean it. I didn't kiss you because I was drunk. Well…I suppose I did. But not just because I was drunk," she told him.

Ron swallowed. "'Mione, I don't understand."

"Look, Ron, the other night, I really thought we were going to die. And I was terrified. Not of dying, but of dying with out telling you how I felt. And then, last night, you told me what I already knew. I couldn't let that happen again. And I know you were talking about being prepared for the next…thing. But my drunk brain said 'Yeah, Hermione, don't let it happen again. Show him you love him.' And instead of saying something, and you know, showing some tact, I acted without thinking about how you would feel about it. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Hermione spit all this out very fast.

Ron gaped at her for a moment. Hermione stared back down at the table top. "I'm sorry," she whispered again.

Ron blinked. What she was sorry for, he didn't know, but if there was one thing that thrilled Hermione, it was explaining things he didn't understand. So he asked her.

"For offending you. For making this awkward. For risking our friendship."

Ron blinked again. "Bloody hell, Hermione. You're supposed to be the smart one."

He watched her face. Her brow furrowed, and she looked up at him. "What?"

"You didn't offend me, 'Mione. Blimey. I…Hmmm," Ron made a decision. He stood and slid onto the bench next to her. "Hermione, you know as well as I do, that I'm crap at talking about this stuff," he said, sliding his hand to cover hers on the bench.

Hermione smiled grimly.

"So would you forgive me if I skip that part for now?" he asked.

Hermione looked puzzled, but Ron didn't give her a chance to question him. With the hand that wasn't holding hers, he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. He rested his hand on the back of her neck, and gently pulled her closer to him. When his lips brushed hers, she responded immediately. He almost laughed at her eagerness. She wrapped her arms around his neck again, and he smiled. He rubbed his thumb up and down her neck and she shivered a little, and pulled him closer.

"Feeling better then, Hermione?" The voice seemed sort of far away to Ron, but he sat back all the same. He turned to glare at Harry, who was sliding onto the bench across the table.

She squeezed Ron's hand gently. "Very much better. Thank you, Harry," Hermione answered, smiling.


End file.
